


sunshine, blue skies (the don't jump! remix)

by surgicalstainless



Category: Leverage
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Post-Series, Seasonal Affective Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalstainless/pseuds/surgicalstainless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creative solutions for Seasonal Affective Disorder, <em>Parker</em>-style.</p><p>A change is as good as a holiday, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunshine, blue skies (the don't jump! remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teaotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The 15-Day Rule](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1994478) by [Teaotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter). 



> Beta-read by the lovely and amazing [Amethystina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina).
> 
> This is of a 'verse with my other _Leverage_ fics, but it is not necessary to have read those first.

The book was bright yellow, and had a gray raincloud on the cover. _Don't Jump!_ it said. Hardison glanced at it and huffed out a laugh, then nudged Eliot, who rolled his eyes. Parker traced her fingers over the words. 

"Don't jump?" she wondered. "Why not? There's plenty of great things to jump off here. All these bridges, just to start."

Hardison reached out and squeezed her hand. "You know that for most people, jumping off a bridge is a _bad_ thing."

They were in Powell's City of Books, lurking behind the sale shelves while they waited for their mark to make an appearance. Before Parker could ask any more questions, Eliot straightened and glanced carefully over Hardison's shoulder.

"There he is," he said, and they slipped casually through the Literature shelves of the Blue Room, hot on the mark's heels. But something about that bright yellow book called out to Parker, and she tucked it into the inside pocket of her coat before she left.

———

The book said it was a "Northwest Winter Blues Survival Guide." Parker wasn't sure what that meant, exactly. She didn't love winter, it was true; winter was cold, which meant more clothes and less maneuverability. How could a book help with that? She flipped through the pages and saw a lot of little drawings, some checklists and quizzes and an awful lot about food. It certainly didn't _look_ very helpful.

She asked Hardison. "Do you get the winter blues?"

He paused mid-orange soda sip and looked at her as if the answer were obvious. " _Everyone_ does," he told her. "It's the gray skies, all the rain. Eliot gets short-tempered and yells at the kitchen staff, I play way too much _World of Warcraft_ , and you go mope in the rafters and scare anyone who walks by."

"I do not," Parker and Eliot muttered more or less simultaneously.

Hardison snorted at them. "Do you know how long it's been since we saw the sun? Me either. Now hush, I have to finish this raid."

Eliot stomped off in the direction of the brewpub's kitchen. As the door swung closed behind him, Parker thought she saw the line cooks flinch.

Parker wandered to the nearest window and looked up. The sky was an unremitting blanket of clouds, low and gray. She thought about that for a little while, about sunshine and blue skies, and decided maybe Hardison had a point. Parker took the yellow book and retreated to her favorite air duct to read.

———

It was November, so Parker opened the book to the corresponding chapter. It had mostly to do with food, and the suggestions looked ridiculous. Parker snorted, high in the ductwork over the bustling brewpub. Eliot was the best at food. He didn't need help from any stupid book. She skipped forward to the chapter on December.

It was titled "Down and Out." Most of the pages were taken up with a list of "cures for the winter blues." She flipped through blurbs about light boxes and vitamin D, and landed on a section about an "in-home tropical paradise." That, Parker thought, she could do. Well, not the bit about the monkey. They had a rule about monkeys. But the rest of it sounded promising...

Parker emerged from the ventilation system long enough to snag a pen and paper, and then she began to plan.

———

Some of it was easy. You could buy _anything_ online, these days.

  * Jumbo-sized kiddie wading pool
  * Two cubic meters of fine white sand
  * Six potted palm trees
  * Three beach chairs
  * Striped umbrella
  * Sandcastle-building set



Some of the stuff they had already. There were studio lights on stands left over from that job with the aliens, and Hardison still had that fishing game on the Wii. It wasn't hard to find a mod that made it _tropical_ pretend fishing. Parker was a little horrified to discover you could even catch Nemo, if you wanted.

The brewpub had one of those machines that made slushy drinks, gathering dust in storage until warmer months. Also in storage, Parker found a whole box of little paper umbrellas that opened and closed, and another box full of tiny colorful plastic swords.

"Arr," she growled, pinching the grip of a blue sword carefully between finger and thumb and giving it an experimental swing. It bounced off the paper umbrella she'd opened like the blade wasn't even sharp. She squinted at it, disappointed, and then grabbed the box anyway. They would probably work for stabbing things. Eliot would know.

A little more searching online gave Parker a long, looped "tropical beach paradise" video for the big screens, complete with bright white sand and gentle lapping waves. She found an ambient noise channel that included rolling surf and parrots chattering. There were even a bunch of "beach party" playlists to choose from, though what a cheeseburger had to do with beaches Parker really couldn't guess.

Now for the right kind of clothes. Back in her vent with the mostly crossed-off checklist, Parker frowned and tapped her teeth with a pen. Hardison would know about clothes, definitely. But this was meant to be a surprise, and it wouldn't be a surprise if he helped. Time to call backup.

———

_**\-- initiating video call --** _

_"Parker! How lovely to see you! How is everyone?"_

"What? Oh, they're fine. I need to know what normal people wear at the beach."

On Parker's laptop screen, Sophie frowned. _"You do? Is it for a job? Because Hardison—"_

"He can't— No," Parker interrupted. "It's a surprise."

 _"Ohh,"_ Sophie breathed, and beamed in comprehension. _"You're planning a vacation!"_

"Sure. Something like that. So what clothes should I get them?"

 _"Well..."_ Sophie stared off into the distance for a moment, smiling a little. _"Linen,"_ she decided. _"White linen trousers. And some print shirts, I think. Something in floral, daring but masculine. Hardison looks especially good in seersucker, you remember."_

Parker had no idea what that meant. She nodded anyway.

_"Then there's accessories, of course, footwear and the like. And what about you? You'd look darling in a sundress."_

"No." Parker folded her arms across her chest, and on the computer screen Sophie sighed.

 _"Suit yourself. Actually—"_ Sophie sat up straighter and leaned forward in her enthusiasm. This meant Parker could no longer see the top of Sophie's head, and her nose got really big. _"Why don't I just do the shopping for you? You're at the brewpub, yes? Everyone's still the same sizes?"_

Parker guessed so. Eliot and Hardison still looked pretty much the same. "Yep," she told Sophie's nose.

 _"Wonderful,"_ Sophie said, and leaned back into frame. _"It'll be fun. You'll get the shipments in a couple of days. Give my love to the boys!"_

Parker smiled big and waved for the camera until the picture of Sophie on the screen went dark. "And that," she told herself as she closed the laptop in satisfaction, "is why I'm the mastermind."

———

"Delivery for a... Parker?"

"Wha? Oh, uh, yeah, okay." Hardison had been gaming all night, and even the weak winter sunlight framing the uniformed guy in the doorway was a little too much. He blearily signed the clipboard thrust toward him and handed it back on autopilot.

"Where do you want it?"

Hardison scrubbed a hand over his face. "Here's good."

The delivery guy frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah, man. She's been getting a lot of deliveries lately. Here's just fine."

"Okay, whatever."

Hardison shuffled away in search of orange soda.

In the alley, a large engine turned over, and began sounding the distinctive high-pitched beeping of a truck backing up.

Eliot walked in from the brewpub kitchen. He glanced out the open back door, stopped, did a double-take. "What the hell?"

Hardison waved a hand, his head halfway into the fridge. "It's a delivery for Parker. I told the guy to leave it here."

"Dammit, Hardison! He's backing up a dumptruck!"

Hardison leaned over until he could catch a glimpse around the edge of the door. His eyes went wide. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh. That's right, uh-oh. _Parker!_ " Eliot stomped out into the alley to stop the truck.

The beeping finally silenced just as Parker bounced into the room. "Oh, good! My sand's here!"

"Baby, why—" Hardison glanced out the door one more time, to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "Why did you order a truckload of sand?"

"No reason." Parker gave him her most brilliant smile. Eliot reappeared in the doorway, and she turned the smile on him. "Why don't you go on. I'll take it from here." She tugged on Eliot's arm, and he scowled at her, but moved where she led him all the same. "Off you go."

Hardison screwed the cap back on his orange soda. "But—"

"Tch," Parker cut him off, and made little shooing gestures with her hands. "Bye, now." She herded them both towards the door to the brewpub — Hardison confused, Eliot resigned — and shoved them through it.

Even through the usual chatter and noise of the brewpub, they both distinctly heard the lock click behind them. 

"Dammit, Parker," Eliot said, but there was no real heat to it.

———

The surprise took most of the morning to set up. The delivery guy helped get the sand into place, and then the other delivery guy moved the palm trees in for her, but the rest was up to Parker. She pulled up some pictures on Google image search for reference, and the finished product looked pretty darn good, if she did say so herself.

Time to let the boys back in.

The brewpub was bustling with its usual lunch rush when Parker unlocked the connecting door and slipped through it. Rain splattered against the windows, and outside the passers-by were all in variations on the Portland winter uniform of wool, polar fleece, and Gore-Tex. Inside the atmosphere was warmer, but still subdued. Hardison looked tired and Eliot seemed even more cranky than usual, but both of them softened when they saw her. Parker was suddenly glad all over again that she'd found her team.

She smiled, and crossed the room to take their hands. "You can come back now," she told them. "It's ready."

The three of them entered the living room together, and came to a stop only two steps in as the door swung shut behind them. Flanked by her men, Parker took a moment to just see what they saw.

In the middle of the room sat a giant inflatable wading pool, mostly filled with fine white sand. In it, facing the wall of screens, was a striped beach umbrella and three canvas and wood beach chairs. The screens showed an ocean view, and parrots chattered over the soft sound of the rolling waves. Potted palm trees lined each side of the scene, and to the rear, studio lights burned bright and hot enough to feel like sunshine.

Hardison was the first to recover. "You did all this?" he asked, turning to her with eyebrows raised high.

Parker shrugged. "We have the winter blues," she said. "I figured, maybe it would help if we could pretend it wasn't winter for a while."

"That's real thoughtful, babe."

Eliot cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks, Parker."

She grinned at them. "I got clothes. Here, put these on," she said, shoving a bag at each of them in turn. "And we can use the slushy drink machine to make piña coladas. There's a song about them on the playlist."

"Playlist?" Hardison asked, but Parker had already pulled off her shirt to change into Sophie's beachwear. Eliot and Hardison exchanged fond glances and began to do the same.

———

The little plastic swords, it turned out, were for stabbing maraschino cherries and bits of pineapple. Parker decided she approved.

From the chairs on either side of her, Eliot and Hardison peacefully cast pretend lines in their virtual fishing game. 

Suddenly, Hardison jumped. "I got a bite!" he yelped.

"Well reel it in, man! Come on!" Eliot told him.

"No," Hardison said, "I mean I have a _bite!_ " He held up one foot to reveal an angry red crustacean dangling from one toe.

"What the—"

"Oh, I forgot about the hermit crabs!" Parker cried, and sat upright so she could rescue the bellicose creature.

"Hermit crabs?" Eliot growled. "Parker, we have a rule—"

"Look how cute they are!" Parker cradled the crab protectively to her chest. "Little Eliot is adorable!"

"Little Eliot?" both Eliot and Hardison asked, in near-unison.

"Yeah," Parker told them. "And look — little Spencer's right under your chair!"

Eliot jumped up as if bitten. "Parker, you can't just—" 

Parker held the crab up and pouted. 

Eliot sighed. "Why'd you name them after me, anyway?"

Parker beamed. "Because they're _crabby_ , of course."

From his beach chair, Hardison made a suspicious choking sound. 

Eliot glared, but it was a half-hearted thing that soon gave way to a pleased almost-grin. He sat back down and hit a button on the stereo remote. Jimmy Buffet crooned about paradise.

Parker watched him carefully. "You're not _really_ crabby," she offered.

Hardison snorted.

Eliot smiled at her, at both of them. "Nah," he agreed. "Not anymore."

Parker smiled back, brighter than sunshine, better than blue skies. "Good," she said, and she was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Hermit crabs, like all pets, deserve knowledgable care and educated owners. Please do not get any pet on a whim. (Just because you _can_ buy something online doesn't mean you _should_ , Parker.)
> 
>  _Don't Jump!_ is a [real book](http://www.powells.com/biblio/1-9781570612664-3). I bought a copy for research purposes. Never let it be said I don't suffer for my craft :)
> 
> I'm a Portland resident, so this one struck particularly close to home. If you want to commiserate with me, I can be found on my [tumblr](http://z-delenda-est.tumblr.com) any time it isn't nice outside.


End file.
